


A Storm's Hymn

by Rosage



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Pre-Relationship, ep 19 spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 08:31:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14973227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosage/pseuds/Rosage
Summary: Yasha tries to teach Jester Celestial.





	A Storm's Hymn

Sometimes Yasha wishes everyone were blind in the dark. Everyone else, that is—keeping watch would be pointless otherwise. But she’s lost track of how long Jester has been looking at her, and it’s making it difficult to stay vigilant, especially with Jester asking questions out of the blue. They don’t all seem directed at Yasha, which makes it nice, listening to Jester whisper at the stars and the fireflies and her god.

As Jester’s attention returns to her, Yasha feels suddenly conscious of how she’s sitting, of her arms resting heavy at her sides. Jester’s legs are crossed and flapping like a butterfly, like even sitting still keeps her caged. It’s hard not to watch her fingers draw in the ground.

At least the fire is low, as neither of them needs it for heat or sight. It doesn’t hide her from Jester’s curiosity. “What was that language you were speaking the other day?”

Yasha shifts in the grass. “Celestial.”

“I knew it. You are an angel,” Jester breathes.

“No. No, it’s, it’s a magical tongue.”

 _Magical tongue,_ Jester mouths with waggling eyebrows. She rests a fist under her chin. “Do you think you could teach me?”

“Teach you?”

“You don’t have to, but I bet it would be super useful since, you know, I do a lot of magic.”

“I’m not sure I’m good at, that I’m a good teacher, and I don’t…” Yasha chews at her lip. “I don’t really remember how I learned.”

If Jester finds this strange, she doesn’t show it. “Maybe you can speak to me in Celestial, and I can repeat it, like Kiri.”

What could it hurt? Besides, Jester is almost impossible to turn down. “I don’t know what to say,” Yasha says in Celestial. Though the song rumbles like thunder in her lungs, her voice is high and quiet. No, not _her_ voice. It is not the voice of a fallen one, its melody more like raindrops than storms.

Seeming to have forgotten her part, Jester just stares at her, enthralled. Yasha rubs her cheek. _She can’t understand me,_ she realizes with dawning freedom. _She can look at me, but it doesn’t matter what I say._ “I don’t know what to say,” Yasha repeats, and Jester continues to watch her like she’s Molly pulling off a performance.

“I don’t know why you look at me like that. I don’t—I don’t deserve it. Any of it.” Worried her tone will betray her venting, Yasha steadies herself with a breath. “But I like you. I, uh, I like you a lot.”

As Yasha sings, Jester’s eyes go from wide to half-lidded, and her parted lips press into a sleepy smile. “I think you are the angel,” Yasha says, and finally Jester repeats her, her pronunciation mangled but her tenderness matching Yasha’s. Like a bolt of lightning it breaks Yasha from her trance. Her face suffers all the heat of an electrical burn.

After a pause, Jester claps, enthusiastic but soft enough not to wake anyone. “Thank you. That was very good.”

“You, your try was, it was good too,” Yasha manages in Common.

“I would have repeated more, but you know, it sounds so much like singing, and my mama always used to sing to me.” Jester’s voice tapers to a hush. “I’m sure she still does,” she adds, just loud enough for Yasha to check that the others aren’t stirring, “and I’m just not there to hear it yet.”

Nothing in the book Molly gave her explains the etiquette for moments like these. “I hear The Ruby of the Sea is an excellent singer.”

“I’m sure she would sing to you! I bet she would really like you. I’ll introduce you when it’s safe to go home.”

The matter of fact way she says it gives Yasha goose bumps. It’s true she has stayed with the group longer than expected, as the Stormlord said this was the right path, and she doesn’t want to leave. Not with Molly here, and her new friends, and Jester.

She doesn’t know what Jester means by _when it’s safe_ , but it won’t matter as long as she walks with her, and the Stormlord walks with Yasha. “I’d like that,” she says. It’s worth the attention when Jester smiles.


End file.
